Lost Causes
by River Winters
Summary: Dean Winchester hated witches… so it was too bad the woman he fell in love with just so happened to be one. Spinoff of Song Remains the Same. Dean/OFC.
1. Keeping Up Appearances

**Author****'****s Notes: **Welcome! This story is a little spin-off from my main story _Song Remains the Same_ which is a Castiel/OC sisfic. In it, one of the OCs who is introduced (Jamie Ward) becomes a love interest for Mr. Dean Winchester. She and Dean have a bit of a history and a growing will they/won't they romance within SRS. Since SRS is a Castiel/Alex focused story, only plot-necessary Jamie/Dean scenes will be featured there. _Here_ you will find a series of JamesDean deleted scenes and one-shots that work as companions to SRS. It will be updated in tandem with SRS for the most part.

Jamie is 'played by' Katheryn Winnick. If you visit **winchesteralex-dot-tumblr-dot-com** you can see photos of her on the cast of characters page.

**This story probably won****'****t make much sense to you unless you****'****ve read SRS! But I****'****ll try to make sure a new reader/non-SRS reader can keep up with everything! There****'****s also a context thing below that fills you in VERYYYY briefly on Jamie/Dean thus far via Song Remains the Same. **

**Story Details:  
Title:** Lost Causes  
**Summary:** Dean Winchester hated witches… so it was too bad the woman he fell in love with just so happened to be one. Spinoff of Song Remains the Same. Dean/OFC.  
**Rating:** Rated M for language, sexual content.  
**Disclaimer: **I know it's misleading since I post lowly fanfic about it on the internet, but I DO NOT OWN Supernatural or any of the trademarks associated with it.  
**Spoilers/Warnings:** Spoilers for multiple SPN seasons. Mentions of non-con situations.  
**Pairings:** Dean Winchester/Jamie Ward (JamesDean), Castiel/Alex Winchester (mentioned, offscreen).

**Context for the new reader:**_Chapters of Song Remains the Same where Jamie/Dean scenes happen: _**46, 48, 49, 50, 54, 55, 74**.Jamie and Dean met as teenagers once in 1995—Jamie's uncle/guardian was a hunter. Jamie and her brother Glen were new to hunting and had recently been taken from their mother's custody. The Winchesters and Wards worked a couple jobs together at that time in '95. In Song Remains the Same, Jamie reappears at Dean/Lisa's doorstep present day in the middle of the night to tell him that Alex (who has been hunting with Jamie for that year) has disappeared. They look for her together then once they find her, go their separate ways… they struck up a bit of a friendship and Dean, who has been living a domestic life, finds himself missing hunting and even comparing Lisa to Jamie a little. Lisa is great and he loves her, but she's not as much his type as someone like Jamie is.

A few months later, Sam is back and the Winchesters have their encounter with the shapeshifter baby (6x02). Dean/Sam meet up with Jamie/Alex/Glen and when the shifter dad reappears, Jamie uses intuitive magic to defend the baby. Dean, who had NO IDEA she was a witch until then, freaks out, insults her, packs up Sam and the shifter baby, demands his sister comes with him. Alex refuses. They go separate ways and Dean of course is PISSED. A few days later, Jamie's brother Glen assaults Alex sexually. Jamie finds out the hard way, arriving to the motel room where there's blood, signs of struggle, and no one there… only evidence of demons. She calls Dean who cusses her out and says to stay away from his family or he'll kill her. She then tries to summon the demon Ruby, who she sold her soul to a few years ago. Meg appears instead and taunts Jamie. It is revealed to the reader at this point that Jamie sold her soul to save a guy she was in love with. She got him killed on a hunt. Meg reveals to Jamie that she and Ruby (who were loyal to Lucifer), tricked Jamie into the entire soul deal. Ruby had agreed to the soul deal only if Jamie would allow Ruby to also turn Jamie into a witch. Jamie didn't question it, just wanted her boyfriend alive again. Turns out, Ruby was using Jamie to break a seal and help raise Lucifer more quickly. The seal was: 'and a good woman shall give her soul over to the heresy of witchcraft to save a betrayer.' The man Jamie was in love with was a demon, and he had been in on the entire thing, too.

So not only does Jamie find out her brother is a rapist/murderer, she finds out she helped raise Lucifer. She spirals into despair because her entire family is dead—uncle, killed while hunting (Jamie blames herself) and brother shot dead by Alex Winchester in self-defense during a rape attempt. Her dad died years ago in a brutal murder her mother went to prison for. Her mother committed suicide later while incarcerated.

Jamie attempts to keep hunting but is basically trying to get herself killed. She runs into Dean on a vamp hunt (Dean of course is a dick to her and tells her to screw off). However, she ends up saving Alex from being a vampire forever (Dean and Alex were both turned and Alex fed. Dean did not.). However, whenever Jamie uses magic, it has a bad effect on her. She didn't really _want _to be a witch and has never really gotten good at magic. She can cast it intuitively and sometimes it happens whether she wants it to or not. She isn't really proud of what's happened to her but she accepts it and tries to use whatever powers she has for good. Anyway, as I said, it comes with a price. When she saves Alex from being a vampire, Jamie casts them both into small comas and she almost kills herself to save Alex. Jamie stays in a coma and the Winchesters have Samuel Campbell watch her at the hospital where she's been admitted.

Samuel calls a couple days later and says she's disappeared and he doesn't know where she went. Later on you find out he's lying and took her back to his compound, planning to talk her into joining him on hunts. His motivation is raising Mary back from the dead—Crowley promised he'd do this but _only _after Samuel got him lots of Alpha monsters. Samuel saw Jamie use magic and decides since she's reasonable and smart he can use her to his advantage. He is shady enough to decide to drug her food once she awakes from her coma… that way she can't leave yet. He plays on her insecurities and her status of loneliness… says she can be part of the Campbell family, etc. She says she'll think about it. When she pokes around and finds that her food is being drugged, she starts to go berserk. Then Crowley appears and casts a forgetfulness curse on her, saving Samuel just barely. As a joke, Crowley makes Jamie think her name is Marie. She is glazed over and dumbed down and Samuel keeps her in a shed out back, using her witchcraft to heal himself, track enemies, and cast spells. This weakens her. Even worse is when he begins to express interest in her sexually.

When the Winchesters run into Samuel and Gwen and Jamie in 6x16 (the Khan worm episode), Jamie remembers who she is after being prompted by Dean/Alex. Dean takes her aside and asks what's happened. Ever since Jamie saved his sister's life and almost died in turn, he's rethought his stance on her being horrible… that, and all he sees is a girl his grandfather has clearly abused and mistreated. When Jamie alludes to some kind of dark 'something' happening to her at Samuel's hand, Dean is enraged and pulls out his gun, starts ranting about killing Samuel. He assumes the worst, that his grandfather raped this girl or something. Then the worm takes over and he begins to shoot at his sister instead. Jamie takes him down, gets shot in the arm in the process… but isn't out of it enough to kill Samuel by shooting him in the chest several times just a few moments later. When the episode concludes, Dean calls Cas to heal Jamie. She then asks (very sheepishly) if she can get a little money from Dean so she can get a ride six hours North to where her car was before all this crap went down. He offers to take her instead, feeling he owes her that much.

When Alex realizes what's happening with Jamie and Dean, she makes a quick excuse for herself and Sam, saying they were planning to ride home with Bobby. She is playing a bit of a matchmaker and Dean realizes, is a bit chagrinned, but says nothing. He and Jamie take off to go find her car and stuff. And this is where the story begins! Except, it doesn't… let's first go way back when to teen!JamesDean, shall we?

* * *

**Lost Causes**

Chapter 1 / Keeping Up Appearances

"_Lost causes are the only ones worth fighting for."  
_- Clarence Darrow

* * *

**1995  
Tombstone, Arizona **

Two men stood in a run-down lobby adjacent to a crappy motel dining area.

"Look, I understand your concerns but we were _hired_ to take care of this problem here," said the first man. Gary Ward was a solidly built hunter who was in his early forties. He had broad shoulders, tousled blonde hair, and pleasant, strong features. He looked like he could have been an officer in the military from the way he stood and spoke.

"Yeah and you're doing a piss-poor job of it too," the second man retorted without bothering to hide his rude tone. John Winchester was tall and dark-haired and had the look of someone who was constantly harrowed and under pressure. "Me and my goddamn _kids_ could be done with this hunt by_ dinner_."

As the men continued to argue about who had rights to the hunt unfolding in that motel, their respective children were quiet nearby in the dinky restaurant portion of the establishment. Four kids all sat at a booth which had seats that were cracked and discolored. On one side of the table two twelve-year-olds sat side by side: Sam and Alex Winchester, brother and sister twins. Alex, the younger (by all of two minutes and some change), swung her legs in listless boredom as her brother Sam closely watched their father and the other hunter arguing.

Across from the twins sat two blond teenagers, a boy and a girl. The girl looked slightly older than the boy. Fifteen or so. She was awkwardly built and not filled out yet, had a mouthful of braces and a chin that was acne-riddled—she was gawky and her nose was too big for her face, her neck looked too long for her body. Her brother was much more visually comely than her: built tall and strong even at thirteen with piercing gray eyes and handsome, aquiline features. Sam studied the boy—Glen, who he'd seen around at school a few times ever since starting two weeks ago. Sam switched schools a lot. Sometimes more than once a month. Life on the road was chaotic at best for the Winchester kids.

Forever eager to make friends and fit in, Sam decided to try and talk to Glen. He knew Glen was popular at school. He was one of those guys who didn't exert much effort at anything and got praise for it among his peers. Funny thing was that Sam hadn't known that Glen and Jamie were even_ related_ to each other or that they were hunter kids until that very day when his family ran into Glen's family at this motel. The Winchesters were here for a different job and had just so happened to pick a haunted motel to stay in. Apparently the Wards were working this job. But now Dad was gung-ho to get in on this job too… and was definitely letting Gary Ward know it.

As the men argued nearby, Sam focused on Glen and said the first thing he could think of. "Ten bucks says my dad could beat yours up," he joked in a friendly tone, trying to break the ice.

Maybe he should have made a different joke.

Glen cut a lazy and unimpressed glance up at Sam and then sat back in the booth and scoffed, haughty. "You don't _have_ ten dollars," he said through a lazy smirk. "Look at your _shoes._" Withering slightly at the harsh insult, Sam pulled his feet back toward himself in embarrassment. His ratty old tennis shoes spoke of poor living and meager funds. "And anyway, he's not our dad, he's our uncle," Glen continued, obviously thinking nothing of upsetting Sam.

Sam was turning red and beside him, his twin had a look of wrath on her face—Alex was easy to piss off and unlike Sam, she liked to fight and had no problem with confrontation. "I was just trying to joke around," Sam muttered quietly, mortified and feeling like a freak as always.

"Nice _joke_, hand-me-down," Glen retorted, further incensing and insulting Sam.

Beside Glen, his already-appalled sister balked and slapped him in the back of the head. "Don't be such a_ jerk_, Glen!"

"Get off me, Jamie," he muttered, elbowing her away. Across the table, Alex stared at Glen coldly then very slowly and purposefully pointed out her index finger. She abruptly poke-shoved the open grape soda, hard. It crashed forward to spill. The fizzy purple liquid rushed over the table and poured down into Glen's lap, who jumped up—but not in time to avoid getting absolutely soaked with purple soda.

"Ahh! What the _hell_?!" he demanded, furious as he uselessly brushed angry hands against wet pants. Alex shrugged, seeming to indicate she wasn't sorry and didn't care. She reached into her jacket pocket as if to pull something out. Instead of pulling something out, she cooly flipped her middle finger up at Glen and leaned forward across the table at him while giving him a wan smile that seemed to dare him to piss her off more.

"Alex, _quit _it," Sam muttered, snatching her hand out of the air and trying to just wipe the incident off the board completely. He didn't want his sister to make it worse like she always did. He was already mortified enough.

Glen huffed. He was clearly embarrassed now too and pissed. He rolled his eyes insolently, giving up on the situation completely. "Bunch of _losers_." He stalked out of the motel, unnoticed by his uncle.

Jamie Ward watched her brother go and was severely appalled at his behavior. But, what else was new? He was kind of an entitled douche bag and was always shocking her with his thoughtless, rude ways. "Sorry," she apologized to the kids across the table. She was a little red from secondhand embarrassment. Sam looked miserable, Alex looked pissed, and Jamie squirmed, trying to find a way to apologize for her moron sibling. She was _always _left trying to apologize for his stupidity. This Sam kid was obviously very hurt by the shoe insult, so Jamie tried to reassure him. "Your shoes are fine. He's just a jerk. Gets in a mood sometimes." She was just making excuses and turning redder, getting more upset. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Sam said meekly, even though he was clearly very wounded. Beside him, his sister huffed loudly and crossed her arms, staring at him hard. He looked at her and got frustrated inexplicably. "Calm _down_, will you?" he asked her, flustered. Wordlessly, his twin threw her hands up and made a face at him. Sam was chagrinned and let out a long gust of air. He put his face in his hands while making a frustrated sound. "Come on Alex, _ughhh_."

Jamie watched the brother and sister communicating like that—Alex never speaking at all even though she had an attitude that was volume one-hundred and Sam talking to her like he had heard her speak. Jamie had seen the two of them around at school and thought for a minute. She realized she'd _never_ seen Alex talk, ever. "Does she… does she not talk?" Jamie asked slowly, trying not to be rude.

Sam glanced at her and more embarrassment showed. "No. Can't."

_Awkward._ "Oh. I'm sorry." Jamie cleared her throat. They didn't say much for a long moment. John and Gary were still 'discussing' who got to work the job. Jamie looked at the twins and decided to chance another conversation. Even though she was highly uncomfortable and everything felt embarrassing and her skin was on fire from humiliation, she tried to show these two that she wasn't like her mean-spirited brother. "So, um, you guys been hunters a long time?"

Sam's bright hazel eyes flickered to hers guardedly. He obviously considered not talking to her, but he did. "My dad's hunted since we were six months old," he answered. He seemed to have reservations about it. "I only found out about it a few years ago but yeah. We train a lot. Always have." Cautious, he studied her a second, then extended an olive branch. "You?"

Jamie shook her head and shrugged, relieved Sam was talking to her. She cared a lot about what people thought and always wanted to make the right impression. "No. New at it. Really new. Like two years. It's… pretty crazy." And it was. The past few years had been absolutely insane for Jamie and Glen, who'd been ripped out of the life they knew and put into a totally different one. Dad, dead. Mom, in prison for life. The craziest part of all? Jamie was _glad_ to be free from that life she'd lived before. Glen, however, despised their new, simpler, less luxurious lifestyle while Jamie loved it. Uncle Gary believed in her, let her pursue activities she wanted to (Tae Kwon Do, kickboxing, soccer), didn't constantly berate her about her weight and appearance and every little small things she did like Mom had. He encouraged her, accepted her, and treated her like a dad would treat a daughter. Oh, and there was the hunting. Ghosts and stuff were real—mind, _blown_.

Uncle Gary didn't let Jamie and Glen come along to many jobs because he insisted they needed their education first and foremost and that hunting was dangerous. But here and there, he brought them along and taught them what he knew. He'd hunted for most of his life, apparently. Jamie was glad to know there were other hunters out there—she hadn't really known other kids could be hunters, either. She wondered if Sam and Alex hunted much with their dad. John Winchester seemed kind of intense, like the kind of guy you wouldn't want to make mad. Speaking of people you didn't want to make mad, Alex was currently staring at Jamie like she was the devil. Jamie felt like backing away slowly. So she did. "Um… I'm… gonna go get you another soda or something." She stood up and headed away, feeling Alex's malevolent, mistrustful gaze the entire time.

On a mission to make a friend, Jamie went to the little break room on the opposite side of the motel lobby. In there was a snack machine, microwave, soda machine and… Dean Winchester. He had a metal wire coat hanger and he was crouched in front of the snack machine. He'd unbent the hanger and had snaked his arm in to the bottom part of the machine where the snack got dumped out—he was was using the hanger to poke and prod a packet of M&Ms that was several levels up. Jamie's blood pressure immediately skyrocketed. "…_What are you doing_?" she hissed, glancing around quickly and becoming paranoid that some staff person was gonna see and think she was in on it.

If she startled him, he didn't give that away. He threw an unruffled brief glance at her over his shoulder. "What's it look like?" he asked lazily, returning to his task. "Getting some candy."

"Do you _really_ not have a quarter?" Jamie asked, adopting a catty tone. She didn't like Dean, at least not what she had seen of him at school. He was a typical sixteen year old dumb jock. He was stuck on himself, thought he was the best thing since sliced bread, was a grade or two behind and didn't care, was basically was a huge jerk. He'd only been at her school for two weeks and already had a reputation for trouble, laziness, rudeness to teachers, skipping, and being a playboy with the girls. Also, he wore the _same damn _leather jacket every day no matter the weather. And that annoyed her, too.

"Babe, I got _plenty_ of quarters," he told her, cracking an arrogant grin at her. _Babe?_ "But I also know how to get free candy, so…" he wiggled his eyebrows at her once and Jamie's expression darkened. Even if he was a jerk, he was_ really_ cute and that made her mad. He had a dreamy face and _unreal _green eyes and pretty hair and a good body and… _no, stop Jamie. _

She reminded herself that he was no good. The only thing she'd ever seen about him that was nice was him sitting with his silent, moody, sorta-outcast sister in the cafeteria and doing something to make her laugh at lunch one day. Then she'd seen him walking her to class with an arm around her and a grin on his face—he'd reached out and ruffled Sam's hair—Sam had groaned and tried to pull away from the display of affection. Dean clearly wasn't ashamed of his siblings or being seen with them. Jamie wondered what that would be like. Glen never even _acknowledged_ her in school. He was too good for her or something dumb like that. But just because Dean was nice to his sister and brother didn't mean he was good. Jamie crossed her arms and glared. "You shouldn't_ steal _stuff."

Dean made a sound like _psh_. "Don't be lame," he said, then muttered as he concentrated on poking the packet. "It's just some M&Ms, _James_."

That stupid nickname he used for her made her bristle—he'd done that a couple times at school and had also called her a know-it-all and a prude, a nerd. "_Jamie._" Her correction just pleased him and she got even more annoyed as such."Stealing is _wrong._"

"_Why_?" he challenged casually. "If you need something and it doesn't hurt anyone, take it!" After one more nudge with the hanger, the packet of M&Ms dropped down into his waiting hand and he grabbed it, stood up while grinning and making a proud little_ heh heh heh _sound. Even more irritated with him than before, Jamie glowered. Dean was grinning smugly at her, enjoying himself. "Don't tell me. Now you wanna tell me how bad this is for my _health_."

Just to prove him wrong and be smart, Jamie rattled off some facts with a superior, huffy tone. "It has high saturated fat content which can lead to high cholesterol which increases risk of heart disease and stroke."

Dean's grin fell and his expression turned insolent as he rolled his eyes at her. "And I thought you were bad at _school._"

He meant how she liked to speak up in class and answer questions, but she saw a double-entendre in his insult and used it to show her superiority. "My grades say otherwise," she retorted calmly. All A's, _always_. Honor roll, a grade ahead of everyone else… she was very proud of her academic achievements. She fed two quarters into the soda machine serenely, feeling like she had just gained the upper hand.

"Har _har_." Dean said, ripping open the packet of stolen candy. He shoved a handful in and talked through it noisily and sarcastically. "Well good for you but all that snooty good grade crap's not gonna do jack for you out here in the real world, sweetheart."

_Sweetheart?_ Jamie looked at him with a jagged glance as she basically punched the grape soda button with the side of her fist. "Yeah, 'knowing things' is a _real _setup for failure," she deadpanned, hiding her anger under a sharp retort.

"Oh my _god_, are you narrating a documentary?" Dean looked like he'd never experienced anything worse. "Putting me to sleep over here."

Jamie feigned an apologetic expression and came back at him like it was her business. "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot you're used to talking to girls who dropped out in the fifth_ grade_."

Dean's mouth dropped open slightly at the unexpected burn. He fumbled for a comeback. "You're… used to talking to… the fifth grade," he mumbled, then frowned darkly, clearly seeing that he had just made himself look insanely dumb. His face hardened and he sneered. "How about you just leave me alone, Braceface." He brushed past her and headed out.

Jamie felt like she was on a roll with good insults and called the first one she could think of after him. Unfortunately, she ended up putting her foot in her mouth. "And where'd you get that jacket, Dumbchester? The _uncool_ factory?"

He paused in the doorway and looked back at her, smirking. "Where'd you get that insult, Stupid City?" He laughed easily and shoved a few more M&Ms into his mouth. "By the way, this cholesterol tastes _delicious_."

He breezed out and Jamie wanted to throw the can of soda she was holding at his head.

That was their relationship at that point in time in a nutshell. Jamie Ward and Dean Winchester pretty much hated each other. Or that's how they _acted_, anyway. She thought he was an idiot and a jerk, he thought she was a snobby pest know-it-all.

The Winchesters stayed in Arizona for all of a month and worked with the Wards on one additional job. By the time they were done, Jamie wanted to strange Dean with that stupid jacket he would never take off. And she was still very mad that he was so cute.

* * *

**Seventeen Years Later**

A jet-black Impala streaked down the highway underneath an overcast sky and soft misting rain. At the wheel of the car Dean Winchester was quiet and terse, staring at the road ahead with a face like a mask. Thirty-three years old, Dean was pretty similar to the guy he'd been at sixteen: he was dedicated to the job and to his family, he loved junk food, and he wasn't always the best with comebacks. He still dressed the same way, he listened to the same music he always had, and he still liked M&Ms best. But he wasn't the same guy. Not really. He'd experienced a lot of things that had scarred him and taken away his more easygoing, free-spirited take on life. He'd been to Hell and back… literally. He'd watched his brother and sister both possessed by Lucifer, he'd watched them both die in front of his eyes only to come back later. He'd spent his whole life chasing a yellow-eyed demon and when he finally put a bullet in that miserable son of a bitch, the nightmares had kept coming. The horrors didn't stop. Maybe they never would.

Next to him, Jamie was thirty-two and pretty damn different from the girl she'd been at fifteen. Physically, she'd changed a lot. She'd filled out, grown into her features, and had straight teeth thanks to that mouthful of braces she'd had as a teen. She was actually kinda pretty. _Okay, fine. _More than _kinda _pretty. Dean had noticed this more than a couple times. She had long naturally blonde hair and fierce, striking features: ice blue eyes, a strong jaw and a constant look of intensity and calculation to her. She deferred to sarcasm and playfulness half the time and as such, she was pretty hard to get a read on. Dean was pretty sure she liked it that way.

One thing that really surprised him? She was all tatted up—he never would have thought she'd be that cool as a teenager, but he'd glimpsed a half-sleeve and noticed a couple more inks on her arms and shoulders since he'd 're-met' her a few months back. He wouldn't have predicted she'd do that, not with the way she'd been as a pesky good-girl teen, anyway.

Either way, she wasn't a prudeish know-it-all anymore. He was pretty sure about that. When he'd first met her she'd been new to hunting and had that bright-eyed optimism (and naive stupidity) to her. He didn't see that anymore. He saw a woman who was self-assured and confidant and sometimes even downright flippant but… there was also something he couldn't put his finger on about her. This guarded vulnerability, this carefulness to keep everything to herself. Comparing her now to when she'd been a teen, she had clearly lost her eagerness to be liked and to be right. Hunting and killing and watching people ripped to shreds had probably jaded her like it had jaded him. And he shuddered to think what _other _things had scarred her inside.

His grandfather, Samuel Campbell, for one… taking her hostage and putting some kind of amnesia spell on her, making her use her witchy stuff to heal him… it had made her sick as hell and if it hadn't been for Cas healing Jamie earlier that same day, Dean thought she would have been in bad shape for a long time to come or possibly for the rest of her life.

Dean thought about it again, raking himself over the coals mentally for not realizing something was going on. A few months ago Jamie had 'disappeared' from a hospital in Limestone, Illinois after saving Alex's life. Samuel had claimed Jamie went missing. But all along, he'd had her with him. After discovering Jamie just last night on a hunt, a lot had gone down—but at the end of the day, Jamie had shot Samuel dead after her memory was jogged. Apparently, he'd been using her witch abilities to his own advantage… brainwashing her somehow into forgetting who she was and then using her to heal his every little wound and sickness._ Bastard._

But Samuel using Jamie as a supernatural band-aid for himself wasn't the worst part. Jamie had said something else, something that made Dean feel sick in every part of himself. She had been trying to recall what Samuel had made her do and said "I remember him making me…" then she hadn't finished the sentence and the surprised, upset look on her face had made Dean want to kill someone. His mind had immediately jumped to a horrible conclusion that his sick, twisted grandpa had coerced Jamie into some kind of sexual favor crap or had even raped her.

That's why he was so quiet right now. He had no idea what to say to her or do. It was nauseatingly ironic: Glen Ward trying to rape Dean's sister a few months back and then Dean's grandfather probably _succeeding_ in raping Jamie repeatedly. What was this, some kind of sick karma joke? Dean felt responsible to a degree for whatever had happened to this girl. That's why he was so eager to help her out however he could right now. He had to try and make it _right_.

Her one request to Dean had been for a little money to get to Limestone so she could go track down her car and possessions—that's where everything had been abandoned months ago when Samuel took her. Dean had immediately volunteered himself, Sam, and Alex as help to get Jamie there. And then Alex had made an excuse and said she and Sam were riding back to Sioux Falls with Bobby. Dean saw what she was doing and he was sort of grumpy about it. His sister thought she was being so smooth, trying to set them up or something like that. Then again… Dean hadn't exactly protested the arrangement.

Either way, here Dean and Jamie were, about five hours out from Limestone where they would hopefully be able to find her SUV and all her stuff. Dean glanced sidelong at his companion. At the moment she was going through his cassette tapes with vague interest. From the light-hearted demeanor she'd been displaying all day, you would never know she'd been in captivity just twenty-four hours before.

"_Styx_, Winchester?" She chuckled then set the tape back into the box he kept them in. Leisurely, she sat back in the passenger seat. By all appearances she was in a great mood. "Don't you get tired of these same ten tapes?"

Dean scoffed in good nature, trying to play off her lead and hide his more darker, worried thoughts. He understood not wanting to talk about things that hurt. "_Hell_ no," he replied with a forced easy-going smile. "Those albums are _gold_. Stand the test of time." He remembered how she liked heavy metal music and he poked friendly fun at her for it. "I can't say the same for your ear-murder music."

An amused smile played on her lips and her eyes scanned the road ahead. "I like other stuff too."

Dean gave her a playfully skeptical glance. "Like what?"

She was about to make a joke and it was obvious from the little smirk she had tugging at the corner of her mouth. "German death polka, experimental classical, speed Reggae…" Her eyes cut to his sidelong and that little smirk widened.

Dean laughed a little at her answer. His face softened as his eyes crinkled up. He shook his head, chagrinned at himself for thinking that was funny. "Wow. I don't even know what to say to that. I hope none of those are real things." He suddenly felt guilty for smiling at all and made himself stop. Sobering and getting caught up in his more worried thoughts, Dean switched hands on the wheel and glanced at his companion a couple times, trying to get a read on her. "You feeling okay?" he asked after a couple minutes.

Jamie visibly stiffened just a little, then dodged his question. "Yeah," she answered evenly, then smiled like everything was fine. "That angel friend of yours is pretty good. No scar or anything." She rolled the shoulder she'd been shot in and let her eyebrows raise up briefly—she seemed pretty impressed with Cas. "Just like new."

Not what he meant. Distracted, Dean looked at her profile tensely a couple seconds more before returning his focus to the road. "Yup. He's pretty handy."

"So I gathered." For a couple more minutes, neither one said anything. When Dean looked at her again, his tellingly concerned expression made her prompt him for an explanation. "_What,_ Dean?"

He set his jaw tight, looked at the road again. "Just… wish I knew he had you."

This was very clearly something she didn't want to talk about. "Yeah well, I'm fine now, so…" _drop it_. He heard that implied suggestion and tried not to keep harping on it.

But Dean couldn't not ask. "Here's the thing though, how can you be _fine_?"

Her jaw tightened and defensive impatience flared. "Because I _am_." Her tone was a little harder, a little more stiff than before. "No harm done."

"No harm done?" he repeated incredulously. His grandfather had held her hostage, brainwashed her, used her for magic and maybe more, lied to her, mistreated her… no harm done? He called bullshit on that one.

But Jamie was firm and gave him a pointed look. "I'm_ good_." He heard the implied. _Don't ask me about it anymore_. So for now, he didn't.

* * *

**That Night**

Jamie padded out of the bathroom dripping wet after the world's _best shower ever_ where she had washed off the grime and the dirty feeling left by the thought of Samuel and her shamefu; captivity. She lazily held the towel to her front out of habit more than anything else. Dean was gone to go get food and she was pretty sure he wouldn't be back for awhile which was why she didn't wrap it around herself. She pawed through the clothes she'd hastily bought at a local supermart before getting here. Well, _she_ hadn't bought them. Dean had. He was really racking up kudos and she sort of _hated _that. Owing people made her uncomfortable. But she was gonna pay him back when she got access to her accounts and everything again. Then they'd be square and she wouldn't owe him shit. Actually, that wasn't true after the rescuing her from Samuel thing. God, she hated that. Having to be saved. She also hated how he kept looking at her with all that sad worry and veiled concern. When he did that, she remembered the reasons he was anxious about her. She didn't want to remember that stuff. It was best just to chalk it up to_ it is what it is _and be done with it.

She pulled out the pair of jeans that was on top of the bag while she still held the towel against herself just barely. She almost dropped it completely out of annoyance because holding it there was pointless and getting in her way. Maybe it was a good thing she didn't drop it.

The door opened at that second and in walked Dean. He was holding a bag of Chinese takeout and messing with his keys, momentarily distracted. "Well I hope you like fortune cookies 'cause they gave us like—" Dean froze right after he shut the door and looked up and saw that she was totally naked with a towel concealing only her front. His voice softened into a shocked whisper as his eyes dropped to the curve of her exposed ass. "…_Twenty_." He swallowed and fumbled, blinking rapidly. "Uh…"

Not interested in flipping out, Jamie didn't gather the towel around herself in a tizzy. She just gave him a challenging look. "You mind?" she asked evenly, not moving a muscle. She wasn't shy about her body and hadn't been in years, plus freaking out might just put more ammo into his concern-gun.

Recovering from his surprise, Dean looked away and became the picture of awkward. "Uh… sorry."

"Uh _huh_," Jamie replied sarcastically, pointedly wrapping herself in the towel and giving him a little smirk. She _did_ enjoy making him squirm, especially after all that bickering as kids. She picked up the bag of clothing and tucking it under her arm and headed into the bathroom to get dressed. "Save me some fortune cookies, Dumbchester," she threw over her shoulder right before she shut the door behind herself.

In a few minutes she came out dressed in jeans and a plain gray t-shirt with a black zip-up hoodie over it. Dean was sitting on one of the beds and he was altering an FBI badge it looked like. When she came out, he glanced her way and nodded over at the other bed where he'd stuck her carton of food. "Kung Pao chicken for the lady," he said, trying really hard to act casual.

Jamie decided not to tease him and sat down on the bed next to where he sat and grabbed the carton of food and chopsticks out of the bag. Curiously she watched sidelong at Dean using tweezers to place the fake ID he'd printed while out into place on the badge. He was very meticulous and focused, precise. He wasn't looking at her so she took the chance to let her eyes wander those broad shoulders and big, strong arms. His build was so solid and substantial, brawny and definitely appealing… _ahem_. _None of that, Jamie. _She made herself keep looking at the badge as he worked on it. She knew he was making this one for her since the plan was to go check around at PD's tomorrow for her car and gear. "You're scary good at that crap, Dean," she commented as she used the chopsticks to shove a mouthful of chicken in. She chewed and talked out of the side of her mouth rudely, too tired and hungry to care about manners. "And I thought _Alex_ was good at it."

He got the smallest little crooked smile on his face. "Who you think taught her?" he asked cheekily with the briefest glance at her. He returned to his work. She continued to eat like it was her job. "_So_, while I was out, made a few calls and found out that your car's impounded at a local lot not far from here," Dean said, smoothing the paper he'd just placed onto the badge down so that no air bubbles were left. Jamie perked up, impressed at the initiative and also suddenly so excited about seeing her stuff again. "Should be able to go get it tomorrow," Dean continued. "All the stuff out of it got put into evidence downtown, though."

Jamie's elation stuttered. "What? _Why_?"

"Guy I talked to said 'freaky satan stuff,'" Dean said ruefully, half laughing and half uncomfortable. "Thought it was connected to some local cult, sounded like. Good news is it's where we can track it down. Count yourself lucky."

"Trust me, I am." Jamie said, but she was worried now. What if things were missing? Stuff tended to get lost in the system and in transit and she had spent _years _working on accumulating some of those weapons and elements. And one thing was freaking _irreplaceable. _"I hope my spellbook's in there," she murmured mostly to herself. Dean's eyes came to her sharply and she remembered then how much he _hated _that part of her and how much shit he'd given her for it in the past. She felt like she had to give an excuse. "It's… I'm no good without spells."

"…_Right,_" Dean replied awkwardly, obviously not liking the subject matter one bit. For a minute more he worked on her badge silently and Jamie ate much more primly. She didn't _want _to be a witch but she was stuck that way. _Oh well. Too bad. Suck it, Dean. I am what I am._ At the very least Dean wasn't treating her like the scum of the earth anymore. "So how's that work, anyway?" he asked out of the blue. She looked at him with a frown, not following what he meant.

"How's _what_ work?"

"The witch mumbo jumbo," he said, concentrating extra hard on not looking at her while sounding apathetic. "I know it always messes you up." Yeah. It did. Nosebleeds, physical pain, weakening. Whenever she expended magical effort, she paid a price. Dean seemed to find it mildly disturbing and suspicious. "Never seen another witch with that problem."

She hadn't either. In fact, every witch she'd ever met had been a psycho bitch and had turned out to be an enemy. It wasn't like she had witch friends. Or… um… _any _friends. "I dunno," she answered honestly. "It's always been like that. The bigger the magic, the more it hurts. And a couple times it's almost killed me." Like recently. Saving Alex. Which is why Jamie didn't get the way Dean was looking at her right now. Bristling a little, she sharpened her eyes at him. "Dean. I'm not a monster. Don't look at me like that."

His eyes dropped away and he fiddled with the badge in his hands uselessly. "Sorry. I'm just… not used to witches being the good guys I guess."

"Yeah, well… I'm a person first and a witch second," she said curtly. This is why she tried to hide the fact that she had magical powers from most people. People judged her on it immediately, harshly, and with finality. It wasn't fair. But then again, neither was life. "Most of the time I wish I wasn't what I am at all," she said with a shrug, telling him in some small way she got his apprehensiveness about her. "So…"

Dean's attention was piqued and he frowned slowly. "So… why?" he asked carefully, studying her with interest. "Why become a witch in the first place?"

Ah. The question she never answered. A bitter smile pulled at her lips and she looked down. "Let's just say I didn't feel like there was another choice," she said and used a tone of voice that said _discussion closed_.

He was quiet a moment, contemplating her in a close way she didn't like. But he dropped it. "Right. Okay." Dean cleared his throat and handed over the badge. "Still gotta laminate it but whatcha think, Agent Hutch?"

She looked it over and nodded approvingly. Impressed, she gave him a playful little smile. "Not bad."

"Not _bad_?" Dean asked while feigning an indignant expression. "It's _award-winning_."

"Lemme know the next time they hold the con-man awards and I'll vote for you," she replied teasingly, handing him back the badge.

Dean rolled his eyes and tried to suppress a smile. "Think you're so funny," he mumbled, but the way he said it sounded like he thought she was funny, too. He set the badge down and dug in his pocket for his phone. He checked the screen briefly.

Jamie took another bite of her food and watched him curiously. "Expecting a call from the girlfriend?" she asked, remembering Dean was living with a woman named Lisa last she knew. She hadn't met this chick but from what she heard it sounded like a weird match. A hunter and a housewife type? How did _that _work?

Dean's face showed her the answer to her question before he even opened his mouth to reply. "Uh… no. We're not…" he forced a nonchalant smile and scratched the side of his neck absently, trying to look properly unaffected. "She and I aren't exactly together anymore."

"Oh. My bad." Jamie hesitated. She'd missed a few months in her waking coma-like state and had forgotten that. She could see how the guy was still sort of broken up about it even though he was trying not to look affected either way. "Sorry, Dean," she said earnestly, because she definitely knew the feeling of a broken heart and wasted love.

"_Ah_, it's fine," he said, reaching over for his carton of takeout and making an overly uncaring face. "No big deal." Yeah right. But she didn't say anything else, just scooted back further on the bed and leaning on the headboard, pulling her bare feet onto the bed too. Dean glanced over absently from where he sat across from her then noticed her feet and did a slight double-take.

"Whoa, what—what are those from?" he asked, staring shamelessly.

Jamie looked, too. She knew what he was asking about, of course, but still looked. Both of her feet had tattoos on the tops of them—one was a rosary that wrapped her ankle with a candy skull dangling from it instead of a cross, the other tattoo was an intricate lace design that covered most of the top of her foot. But Dean was asking about the scars, not the ink. Dark discolored skin was hardened over the tops of her toes and the sides of her big toe and old calluses and blisters were still red years later after the fact after having been aggravated and raw so many times. Add that that how her feet were misshapen—the big toes were squashed inward creating a harsh angular plane where the skin should have been straight and smooth. In effect, permanent bunions. Finally, three of her toes stuck out awkwardly from broken bones healing wrong. She knew her feet were godawful and didn't really care anymore. As such, she made an unimpressed face. "Gross, right?"

"What, you put your feet in a blender or something?" Dean asked, but the joke sounded more like an aghast concern.

Jamie almost said yes and let that be it but then at the last minute told him the truth. "Pointe ballet," she said, studying those familiar scars. "_Lots _of pointe ballet." As evidenced by her feet which were all but ruined now from all those years of shoes that were too tight and practices were too long and recovery time that was never allowed. "Mom had me doing it from the time I could walk, basically," Jamie murmured, thinking back and remembering and becoming morose. "Wanted me to be a prima ballerina real bad." She was still bitter about that and always would be. She had never wanted to dance, ever. She hadn't wanted to do half the things Mom had forced her into.

"Damn," Dean commented quietly.

Jamie shrugged, playing the part of _who cares_. "Yep. What Mom said went or else." She shoveled in another bite of Chinese food and chewed it harshly.

"Story of my life," Dean said, studying his takeout without seeing it. He smiled then, but it was a cynical smile. "My old man was pretty strict too, let's put it that way."

Jamie glanced at him from underneath her lashes. "Yeah. I remember he was pretty… intense."

Dean's expression darkened fractionally. "That's_ one_ word for it."

Done eating, Jamie set her carton down onto the bedside table between the beds and watched Dean rake a fork through whatever beef and noodle concoction he had ordered. "Where was your mom, Dean?" she asked after a second of debating whether or not to ask. Mothers consumed Jamie's mind because hers had been such a terrible one. "What happened to her?"

Dean's utensil froze and his shoulders stiffened just slightly "Died. When I was four." His somber, reverent tone touched her surprisingly. That's why my dad started hunting. To find the thing that killed her. She… she didn't deserve what happened to her." There was a lot of pain and love there.

"I'm sorry," Jamie said quietly.

"It is what it is," Dean said tersely, obviously not liking the subject matter. He stood up and headed over to his duffel bad. "I think it's time for some hunter's helper," he said, fishing out a bottle of jack. He fixed her with a teasingly challenging look, abruptly pushing the more serious mood in the room to the side. "You drink this stuff or are you too good for it?"

"_Please_, like I'd let you have that whole thing," she retorted.

He chuckled and grabbed a couple plastic cups from near the motel microwave. He poured it out then handed her a full cup of the amber liquid and then saluted her with one of his own as he sat across from her again. They drank at the same time and Dean looked at her feet again with vague interest. "How many tattoos you got, anyway?"

She glanced at him knowingly. She knew he'd seen the side-piece on her when she'd been standing there dripping wet and mostly naked a few minutes back. Shrugging, she answered honestly. "I lost count awhile ago. Maybe like twenty-five or something, I dunno." She had gotten one and then never been able to stop. Obviously.

"They're pretty cool," he said, then cleared his throat and got a little coy. "The ones I've seen anyway."

Definitely not averse to the attention, Jamie returned that coy little smile his way and her eyes flickered over him for a second. "What about you? You got any?"

"Ah, I'm boring," he said. "Just one. Demon ward." He pulled his shirt collar to the side, revealing a demon ward there on the topmost part of his pectoral. She tried not to look too long.

"You _are _boring," she said, making a face and taking another drink of the whiskey.

Dean chuckled again and let his collar go. "I've been called worse." He took another pull of whiskey and hissed in satisfaction afterward then raised his cup at her playfully. "Tell you one thing though, you are gonna be one badass looking grandma."

Jamie's smile froze and she held it in place. She only had a couple years left now. But no one needed to know that. She forced herself to grin and it felt incredibly fake. "Ha. Yeah. If I live that long."

Dean scoffed in amusement. "Hey, where's your sense of optimism?"

She tried to keep the joking mood going but couldn't quite. "Lost that a long, long time ago." She saluted him with her cup and then downed the entire thing and coughed, feeling the alcohol taking effect. She motioned for more and Dean handed over the bottle. She was usually able to stay so in control of everything. Her emotions, her feelings, the way people perceived her. But sometimes she just was too tired of it all and wanted to just leave her own mind. Liquor helped. And she was glad Dean had this pretty decent supply with him.

Dean turned on the TV and they kept drinking as a re-run of Judge Judy played. Jamie stared at the TV unseeingly, deep in thought about everything that had happened and gone wrong in her life. It had all started when her uncle died. It was her fault. Or that's how she felt, anyway. Glen had been a minor at the time and she'd thrown herself into trying to keep their family afloat. Was it her fault the way he'd turned out? A murderer and a rapist and a liar she hadn't known the true face of at all? She lost track of how much she drank because she wasn't paying any attention. Her life was depressing as hell and she knew that. No family left, no real friends to speak of. She was alone and had always felt that way but now, about to be sent off into the world again after Dean helped her find her stuff, she was gonna be more alone than ever before. Alex was back with her family, Glen was dead… not that he'd ever been constant or helpful or even good. But he'd been family.

She sometimes thought about ending it all early because what was the damn point? And she already knew the Hellhounds would be coming to collect on that soul deal. She could have control one last time and decide when it ended. But then again… she had helped a lot of people and saved lives. And she wanted to do that a few more times before the final call.

"Anyone ever tell you when you're not thinking about anything you look pissed as crap?" Dean suddenly asked, jarring her out of her thoughts of death, dying, and human mortality.

She gave a snort—if only he knew what she was actually thinking about. But the comment was so reminiscent of one she'd heard a thousand times before that she gave a short and biting laugh. Had anyone ever told her she looked pissed when she was staring off into space? "_Yeah._" The whiskey made her more cynical and verbally loose than normal. "My _mom_." Jamie smiled nonsensically as alcohol made her veins buzz pleasantly. "Also said my_ nose_ was too big, my boobs were too _small_, I never stood _straight_ enough, I look _mean_ all the time, I needed to lose _weight _if I ever wanted to attract a man, my _clothes_ weren't right…" the list went on and on and Jamie trailed off. What kind of person would say that shit to an impressionable and tenderhearted pre-teen girl? Jamie hated to admit it but her mom's cruel words were so drilled into her that she still believed them to this day. She was ugly, stupid, untalented, unattractive in every way. Jamie stared off into space and thought about how she was nothing like the girl she pretended to be. She wasn't free spirited and uncaring and unaffected, she wasn't badass and strong and sure of herself. She was ruined, worthless, and doomed.

Dean was looking at her in surprise at the confession. "…Seriously?" he asked, maybe thinking she was joking about the stuff her mom said. "No. You're… it's all…" he got mildly flustered. "You're fine. Uh. Pretty. And cool. And I like your clothes. _Psh. _What's she know?"

Jamie barely heard him. "Weird how things your parent said to you forever ago can still get under your skin, right?" she asked. The words wouldn't stop coming and she glared at the bottle of whiskey, blaming it for making her look stupid. She needed to cut this short now before this lame heart-to-heart got any deeper than it already was.

Dean seemed to commiserate with her. "I get that."

Jamie's eyes slowly rose to look into his. Dean Winchester. Not the guy she thought. There was some kind of substance and kindred spirit there that she was feeling more and more aware of, more curious about. He was bright green eyes and impossibly pretty features and man-on-campus attitude but… he was also shockingly kind and considerate. It felt like a trick or a trap and Jamie tried to harden herself and not connect with him because she didn't _do that _with guys anymore. Not after Jake. Inexplicably and suddenly afraid of something unnamable, Jamie cleared her throat and smiled tightly in a grimace. "Well, I'm tired as crap so… night." She immediately got under the covers and turned away from him. She _was _tired. But mostly she just wanted to stop talking.

Behind her, she heard the little smile on his soft voice. "Night James."

"_Jamie,_" she corrected in tired exasperation.

"Never gonna happen," he teased, obviously enjoying her reaction just like he had as a teenager.

"Hate you," she mumbled into her pillow. But she was smiling.

He chuckled softly and that was the last sound she remembered hearing before she fell asleep.

* * *

_Author's Notes: Waaaah! I love these two! 3 and yes, before you wonder or ask, more from 1995 will be shown here and there in this little ficlet. There is more coming soon! REVIEW! xo  
_


	2. Finders Keepers

_*** FYI, this and the previous chapter take place direcetly after chapter 74 of Song Remains the Same***_

**Lost Causes**

Chapter 2 / Finders Keepers

* * *

**The Next Day**

Dean was in his FBI finest, a nice suit that made him look a whole lot more presentable than he actually was. Nearby, Jamie was in a pretty decent power suit that they'd picked up that morning. She had pulled her hair back into a strict ponytail and none of her many tattoos showed. She looked very professional and boring, two things he knew she wasn't. But hey, all the chumps at local PD had bought it, so… there was that. They'd also been too busy checking her out to really care about scrutinizing credentials. Dean couldn't blame them. The girl made the FBI getup look good. He'd had to curtail some porny thoughts about it earlier, actually.

Ahem. He made himself focus once again.

They were currently on their own in a police storage lockup—a huge facility that had a daunting amount of floor-to-ceiling rows packed with confiscated evidence. It had taken them all morning and some of the afternoon to track everything down and chase paperwork and then actually physically locate the boxes of her stuff, but here they finally were. Her weapons, supplies, clothes, and odds and ends that had been confiscated out her vehicle however many months ago. All of it was crammed into two huge bins labeled with long serial numbers. They were going to go find her SUV next, but first they were checking the bins to make sure everything was there.

Dean was looking through one of the oversized plastic tubs as Jamie dug through the other one. He had just found her wallet. He flipped it open out of curiosity and saw her ID—she looked a mixture of sultry and bitchy in the little snapshot photo on the ID and he felt a small smile tug at his lips—she really did think she was a badass, didn't she? His eyes slid to the text beside the photo and then he chuckled at the full name he read on there. Jamieson Rose Ward. Wow, so _fancy _and uppity sounding_. _He might have known. "'_Jamieson Rose_'?" he asked, grinning over at her teasingly and holding up the ID for emphasis. "What the hell kinda name is that, huh? Sounds like a cheap perfume or something."

Jamie looked at him and pulled a face. She was in a great mood and even though she was attempting to appear halfway foreboding, she just looked amused instead. "Shut _up_. Tell anyone my full name and I'll stab you."

Dean pulled out a butterfly pocket knife from the bin of her stuff and waggled it at her with an expression of sheer doubt on his face. "What, with this _baby_ knife?"

Good natured, Jamie swiped it away. "Give me _that._" She smiled at the knife fondly, abruptly almost looking choked up at the sight of it. Dean watched her and realized he could really associate with that look on her face. Hunters just didn't have permanency or homes or things that lasted. So, the few items that made it and stayed at your side ended up mattering, no matter _what _they were. Jamie seemed to feel his sidelong gaze and she glanced up at him then quickly wiped the look off her face in favor of a little self-deprecating eye-roll. Dean let it go and didn't harp on the show of emotion although he _wanted _to tease her about being happy to see a girly little pigsticker knife.

He returned to rummaging through the bin of stuff he was sorting through and his fingers brushed against soft, supple leather. _What__'__s this?_ He peered down into the bottom of the bin and moved aside some candles and a bunch of hex bags. A large old spell book that was decorated with celtic-looking symbols stared back up at him. Dean took it in both hands and pulled it out, knowing she would be _real _happy to see this. He kept forgetting she was a witch because she didn't Jedi her way through life, at least she didn't with him around. But then again, magic messed her up so maybe that was why she barely ever used it. Either way, he kept forgetting that about her. Holding this book made it real to him again. He still didn't really know how he felt about that. At first he'd held it against her automatically because he _hated _witches. But she was turning out to be different than other witches. And maybe different than other girls, too.

Jamie glanced over as she looked through her bin of stuff and she immediately dropped what she was doing. "Oh my _god_! My baby!" She grinned widely and swept over to him in a single bound, taking the book and looking at it like she really couldn't believe it was there. The unrestrained happiness there on her face? The giddy sort of way she was holding herself and even _breathing_? He had never seen that there before—she'd always been so serious and above it all. Her grin wasn't tempered or veiled, the smile reached her eyes, she wasn't guarded at all. It made her look years younger and even prettier than she already was (which was already kind of at insanely high levels, so…). Jamie abruptly remembered Dean and looked up, got a little awkward, and quickly became her snarky, sarcastic, cool and measured self again. "Shut up."

Dean chuckled, knowing his face had said plenty. Still, he teased her. "I didn't say anything."

* * *

**Later**

"To getting stuff back," Dean said, holding his beer out toward her.

Jamie knocked her bottle into Dean's enthusiastically, grinning widely. "I'll drink to that." And she did.

Around them, the lively sports bar was bustling and noisy with the usual sights and sounds—pool balls cracking, football on the television sets, people talking and laughing. Dean was actually relaxed despite himself, enjoying this. They'd knocked back a few beers and he'd found out Jamie was into football—the superbowl was on and while they cheered for rival teams, he admired her interest in the game at least. They had both changed back into street clothes after getting her SUV back—jeans and a henley for Dean, jeans and a sort of sexy red top for Jamie—it was the kind that showed some skin, and he could see some more of her tattoos thanks to the cut of her shirt. There was a prowling panther on one shoulder blade and a cheesy butterfly on the other (she explained it had been one of her first ones and she was probably going to cover it up someday when she saw him eyeing it).

It had been a good day. No major issues or problems. She had all her stuff again and her car. She'd been _so happy_ to see that car, too. Her good mood was still present and was putting Dean in a good mood too. He'd really enjoyed this little rabbit trail, honestly. It had been sort of nice to just get a breather from everything else in his life. And it turned out James wasn't just cute to look at. She was decent company, too, even if she was a witch. "So we made a pretty good team back there, huh?" Dean asked, thinking back to their little FBI moments all day.

She laughed sort of doubtfully through a scoff. "I guess so, Agent Starsky."

Dean winked at her and used the name she'd used all day. "Agent Hutch."

"Okay, how does no one ever _call you_ on that crap?" Jamie asked, grinning and making a face at the same time.

Dean shrugged in false modesty. He'd used so many celebrity names over the years and hardly ever got called on it—the badges looked too real, maybe. "What, you don't use fake IDs?" he asked, sipping at his brew.

Jamie looked amused. "Not usually." She shrugged, indicated herself with a bit of a smirk. "Witch, remember?" Well _yeah_. He'd even seen her use some persuasion spell once last year sometime. It had been kind of cool. "And when I _do_ use fake IDs, I don't use the names of _famous _people," she said teasingly, lifting her beer back to her lips. "I don't like to ask for trouble where I don't need it."

Dean raised his beer in her direction, keeping the playful mood going. "What can I say, I kinda like the thrill of the risk," he joked.

Jamie snorted. "Yeah, you really live on the edge don't you?"

"_Sometimes_ I wash my colors with my whites," he said in an over-serious tone, and it earned him another _oh please _grin from her which he definitely enjoyed. "I live on the wild side."

"Such a _dork,_" she said, rolling her eyes in good nature at him.

Dean shrugged his eyebrows up, unable to stop grinning stupidly at her. "Yeah well takes one to know one."

She gave him a challenging grin. "At least this dork's team's winning, huh?" she nodded to the nearest television.

Dean set her with a challenging look, a little irked that his team was not bringing it. "The Patriot's'll come back, just wait."

She shook her head, certain and a little smug. "This is all Giants, baby," she said, and Dean let it go.

"Yeah, we'll see," he said, his tone indicating that she was dreaming and it was cute.

Her smile twitched then Jamie knocked back the rest of her beer and jerked her thumb over at the pool room and grabbed him by the shoulder of his shirt. "Come on. We're gonna play eight-ball."

She was already dragging him along. "Whatever you say," Dean said, feigning reluctance even though he was sort of into this entire scenario. He enjoyed pool and was pretty damn good at it and Jamie pulling him for those two seconds was kind of cute and took him back to high school crushes. They got a pool table and as Jamie selected two cue sticks, Dean set up the balls. When Jamie handed over one of the sticks to Dean, he offered her the opening shot and tried not to stare at her ass when she bent over to neatly send the cue ball cracking into the triangle formation. The balls went scattering out and she got two solids in right off. Not bad.

"Solids," she said, smiling to herself and letting her eyes flick up to him. He'd already been looking at her.

"Mm-hmm," he said, letting her enjoy whatever small victory she could. He was going to win. He always did.

"Let's make this interesting," Jamie said, and it was almost like she could hear him internally gloating over a victory he hadn't even obtained yet. "Loser pays twenty."

Dean shrugged, definitely enjoying her wasted confidence. "Sure," he said, teasing her almost. "Your loss."

Jamie just chuckled and took another shot, sinking another solid easily. Dean wasn't worried. He sauntered around the table, eyeing the possibilities and strategizing. "So, James, what's next?" he asked offhandedly, conversationally.

She set her cue stick with one end on the ground like it was a walking stick and fixed him with a faintly questioning look as her free hand went to rest on her hip. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what are you gonna do?" he asked, settling on a ball and leaning over the table, taking aim, and sinking a striped ball easily. He looked up at her and waited for her reply.

She shrugged sort of offhandedly, not seeming too into that question. "Find a job. Do something. I dunno. Same old, same old."

Hmm. Just like Dean had thought. "Alone?" he asked, because he knew her family was gone and her hunting partner (Alex) was no longer her hunting partner.

Jamie's mouth pursed slightly to the side, revealing that she had some discomfort speaking on the subject matter. "I mean I'd honestly_ rather_ be alone right now."

"Well yeah but… look, you can't go _hunt _alone," Dean said, and she frowned very slightly at the way he worded himself. Dean tried to make himself sound more generalized, less bossy. He wasn't very successful. "Rule numero uno, don't go it solo. It's too risky."

Jamie concentrated _very _hard on her next shot, looking at the ball as she spoke to Dean. "Relax, Jacket," she said sort of darkly. "Don't worry about me. I've survived this long, haven't I?" she hit the cue ball and it knocked into another solid, sending it into a corner pocket.

"Beginner's luck," Dean said—commenting sort of crankily on her surviving up until now, not her pool skills.

Jamie looked at him with mild distaste. "I know you're joking," she said flatly, "but I've been doing this for almost twenty years now, Dean. And for the most part after my uncle was killed… I've been doing it alone. Glen was never…" she caught herself saying his name and her expression fell regretfully, guiltily. With a softening voice, Jamie looked away. "Sorry." Dean felt a little shaken up at the mere mention of her asshole brother, but he said nothing and just tried to brush it off. Jamie cleared her throat, markedly uncomfortable. "He uh, he wasn't very reliable. That's all." She wasn't lighthearted and in a good mood anymore, and Dean realized his questions were the reason why. Jamie was lining up the cue stick again and getting ready to take another shot. "I've had my own back for a long time now." She propelled the stick forward with a very enthusiastic, sharp jab and the cue ball cracked against a stripe which hit a solid right into the center pocket.

Dean circled the pool table again, getting less and less interested in the game. Maybe it was none of his business, but he really wanted to know. "Why do you hunt, James?" Her eyes flicked up to his and he shrugged. "I mean, out of all the hunters I know, I think you're one who could walk away. Could have a nice normal life, I mean hell, you're smart as crap and obviously above this shit lifestyle." He meant that. He had noticed how smart, well-educated, and cultured she was despite the way she tried to act salt-of-the-earth. "So why do you stay?"

She had this way of smiling so faintly that he wasn't sure if she was laughing at him internally or guarding herself. "I have my reasons," she said, giving away very little. "And you know what? I like helping people. My life was pretty deeply affected by people who didn't need to help me but did anyway. So… I guess maybe this is me passing it on."

Dean tried to get the conversation into lighter territory again, complaining in good nature. "You're as transparent as a brick, you know that?"

She reciprocated, smiling almost flirtatiously at him and looking at him across the table and peering at him from underneath thick black eyelashes as she bent over the table with the cue stick in hand. "A little mystery never hurt anyone." Her eyes fell low to the vicinity of his jean zipper and Dean balked—huh?—Jamie's mouth quirked up to the side and her eyes snapped up to his playfully. "Six in the middle pocket." She took aim and the ball cracked against another one, and six shot into the center pocket—which was right where Dean was standing. Basically, if that ball hadn't gone into the pocket, it would have hit him square in the crotch.

He stared, half-appreciating the gesture and flustered by it at the same time. "Geez, careful where you aim that thing!"

She casually stood with the cue stick and twirled it like it was second nature. "Careful where you stand."

Dean took a step to the side, pulling a face. "Fair enough."

She was laughing at his semi-flustered reaction. As he tried not to let her get to him, he wet his lips and picked a ball to try and sink. As he took aim, Jamie leaned on the table casually with a hand and watched. "Why do _you_ hunt, Dean?" she asked, studying him with shrewd eyes. "Do you like all of this?"

Dean honestly did and didn't. But he just shrugged and decided to say he did. "Yeah. I mean and I don't know anything else." He grew slightly crestfallen internally. "Tried normal life. Didn't suit me so good."

Jamie hesitated. "Do you mean… with Lisa?"

Dean tightened his jaw just slightly at the mention of her. There was a lot of heartache there still and probably would be for a long time. "Yeah." He shrugged his mouth downwards in an attempt to appear like he didn't feel too much concern about it either way. "If I'm not with my family, I'm just not happy."

Jamie twisted the cue stick in her hand, eyes studying the end of it unseeingly. "I envy you," she said, surprising Dean. At his stumped look, she was forced to explain herself. "Just… you, your brother and sister. You three seem so close."

Dean made a bit of a face. If only she knew the constant drama, the way he worried himself to death over them, the way the three of them never seemed to see a hundred percent eye to eye. "Trust me, it ain't all picnics and singalongs."

"No, I know," she said. "But… I think at the end of the day you're all in it together." She sounded sad. "I never… my family was never like that." She took aim again, in the game once more. "Three in the middle." She sank it and five went into a pocket, too.

Dean realized that all left was the eight ball. Whoever sank this baby won. He smirked. He had this in the bag and let his smugness show playfully. "Pretty good at pool, James," he complimented her. "Too bad I'm better." He hunkered down and took his time setting up the winning shot.

Jamie just smiled easily. "_Are_ you?" she asked, leaning her elbows on the table in a way that showed off her cleavage and increased it exponentially. Immediately distracted, Dean missed the shot. She laughed, knowing she'd won and standing, sauntering around the pool table easily, then sinking the eight ball into the corner pocket. "And game," she announced, looking at him and enjoying his gaping expression. "Pride goes before a fall, Winchester," she chided jokingly. "You owe me twenty. But… I think we can call it even."

Dean was suspicious. "Why?"

"Do you remember getting pick-pocketed seventeen-odd years ago?" she asked. "In the amount of twenty dollars?" She winced falsely and pointed to herself, shrugged, put her hands up as she did.

Dean's eyebrows slowly rose as a smile dawned. "…that was _you_?" And all these years he'd thought her asshole brother had stolen the cash. "Damn."

Jamie was smiling at him without showing teeth, and it appeared to be a coy invitation. "To be fair you _did_ tell me stealing was okay if it didn't hurt anyone."

A little nerve-wracked because when pretty girls looked at him like that he got sweaty, Dean picked up the cue ball and tossed it. "Double or nothing?" he suggested.

"Actually, I'm kinda over pool," she said, plucking the cue ball from his hand. She stood right in front of him and Dean swallowed thickly. Was he reading the signals wrong? She reached past him to set the ball down, and her body brushed up against his as she did that. She looked him in the eye briefly and he had to admit, he wouldn't mind being a _lot_ closer to her. Like, as close as you could get. Without thinking, he was opening his mouth to hit on her. His voice dropped a little and he laid his finest and smoothest suggestion on her. "So uh… you wanna get outta here?" he asked, a nervous and breathy hopeful grin on his face. At her silence and the slightly confused frown on her face, he shrugged and indicated himself. "I'm unattached and not terrible to look at, you're…"

She looked surprised, then a little upset, then she covered it up with a smile that was supposed to be amused and superior. "_Leaving_."

Dean immediately remembered his worries about Samuel, what had happened if anything, and he kicked himself hard mentally. Maybe he'd just been an insensitive bastard. "Hey, come on, Jamie, I was joking," he said, wishing he hadn't just said what he had.

The damage had clearly been done—Jamie was leaving and acting fine, but Dean didn't think she _was _fine. "Thanks for the beers and help, Dean," she said, grinning easily at him and leaving him to wonder how she really felt. "See you later."

Crestfallen, Dean tried not to look that way or let the extent of his embarrassment be seen. "Yeah. Seeya later." _Idiot. _He cussed himself out underneath his breath and rolled his eyes. Now she was gonna hate him. Just _great._

Dean was wrong though. She definitely didn't hate him.

Jamie left that bar feeling strange about herself. Dean's hopeful little proposition had made her so suddenly alarmed and freaked out because she'd wanted to say yes but she didn't _do_ that anymore… sleep with guys she liked or knew. She couldn't handle it. It was one night with a stranger and that was it. After being so burned in the past, she ran from anything of substance. She avoided any sort of true intimacy.

And when Dean had suggested that to her, she'd _wanted _him. Like, on a level that wasn't even fully physical. She'd realized she liked Dean. Like, really, genuinely liked him more than she wanted to. Past that macho guy bullshit and the strutting he did, he was… something else. The kind of guy she hadn't seen anywhere else in life. Loyal to a fault, funny, genuine, good. And hot too, Jesus,_ so_ hot. In another lifetime, maybe she would have told him _hell yeah I__'__ll get out of here with you. _But Jamie knew what she was. She was a time bomb. A lost cause. And the thought of getting emotionally involved at all or of having something to live for was too much. Unattached was best. So that's why she said no to Dean and left the bar in such a hurry.

She thought it would only get easier to say no to him from there on out (_if _he should ever ask again). She was very, very wrong about that assumption. As time went on, it would just get harder and harder to ignore and sidestep her interest in him.

* * *

_Author__'__s Notes: quick update for ya__'__ll__… __shortish chapter but hey, cuteness, right? ^_^_


End file.
